88. TO MONTAGU, _Sept._ 22, 1765.--Is Making New Friends in Paris--Decayof the French Stage--Le Kain--Dumenil--New French inclination forPhilosophy and Free-Thinking--General Admiration of Hume's History andRichardson's Novels

89. TO CHUTE, _Oct._ 3, 1765.--His Presentation at Court--Illness of theDauphin--Description of his Three Sons

114. TO THE SAME, _Dec._ 29, 1770.--Fall of the Duc de Choiseul'sMinistry

115. TO THE SAME, _Feb._ 22, 1771.--Peace with Spain--Banishment of theFrench Parliament--Mrs. Cornelys's Establishment--The Queen of Denmark116. TO THE SAME, _April_ 26, 1771.--Quarrel of the House of Commonswith the City--Dissensions in the French Court and RoyalFamily--Extravagance in England

153. TO PINKERTON, _June_ 22, 1785.--His Letters onLiterature--Disadvantage of Modern Writers--Comparison of Lady MaryWortley with Madame de Sevigne

154. TO THE SAME, _June_ 26, 1785.--Criticism on various Authors: Greek,Latin, French, and English--Humour of Addison, and ofFielding--Waller--Milton--Boileau's "Lutrin"--"The Rape of theLock"--Madame de Sevigne

166. TO THE SAME, _Oct._ 15, 1793.--Arrest of the Duchesse de Biron--TheQueen of France--Pythagoras

167. TO CONWAY, _July 2_, 1795.--Expectations of a Visit to Strawberryby the Queen

168. TO THE SAME, _July_ 7, 1795.--Report of the Visit

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

I. LADY MARY WORTLEY-MONTAGU

II. THOMAS GRAY, THE POET

Photographed from a drawing in the National Portrait Gallery, made byJAMES BASIRE, the engraver, from a sketch from life by Gray's friend,the Rev. WILLIAM MASON.

III. STRAWBERRY HILL, FROM THE NORTH-WEST

IV. SIR ROBERT WALPOLE

From a mezzotint by J. SIMON, after a picture by Sir GODFREY KNELLER.

V. VIEW OF GARDEN, STRAWBERRY HILL, FROM THE GREAT BED-CHAMBER

VI. REPRODUCTIONS OF HANDWRITING OF THOMAS GRAY AND HORACE WALPOLE

A SELECTION

FROM THE

LETTERS OF HORACE WALPOLE.

VOLUME II.

_MADAME DE BOUFFLERS AT STRAWBERRY--THE FRENCH OPINION OF THE ENGLISHCHARACTER--RICHARDSON'S NOVELS--MADAME DE BEAUMONT._

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

ARLINGTON STREET, _Dec._ 20, 1764.

... My journey to Paris is fixed for some time in February, where I hearI may expect to find Madame de Boufflers, Princess of Conti. Her husbandis just dead; and you know the House of Bourbon have an alacrity atmarrying their old mistresses. She was here last year, being extremelyinfected with the _Anglomanie_, though I believe pretty well cured byher journey. She is past forty, and does not appear ever to have beenhandsome, but is one of the most agreeable and sensible women I eversaw; yet I must tell you a trait of her that will not prove myassertion. Lady Holland asked her how she liked Strawberry Hill? Sheowned that she did not approve of it, and that it was not _digne de lasolidite Angloise_. It made me laugh for a quarter of an hour. Theyallot us a character we have not, and then draw consequences from thatidea, which would be absurd, even if the idea were just. One must notbuild a Gothic house because the nation is _solide_. Perhaps, aseverything now in France must be _a la Grecque_, she would have liked ahovel if it pretended to be built after Epictetus's--but Heaven forbidthat I should be taken for a philosopher! Is it not amazing that themost sensible people in France can never help being domineered by soundsand general ideas? Now everybody must be a _geometre_, now a_philosophe_, and the moment they are either, they are to take up acharacter and advertise it: as if one could not study geometry for one'samusement or for its utility, but one must be a geometrician at table,or at a visit! So the moment it is settled at Paris that the English aresolid, every Englishman must be wise, and, if he has a goodunderstanding, he must not be allowed to play the fool. As I happen tolike both sense and nonsense, and the latter better than what generallypasses for the former, I shall disclaim, even at Paris, the_profondeur_, for which they admire us; and I shall nonsense to admireMadame de Boufflers, though her nonsense is not the result of nonsense,but of sense, and consequently not the genuine nonsense that I honour.When she was here, she read a tragedy in prose to me, of her owncomposition, taken from "The Spectator:" the language is beautiful andso are the sentiments.

There is a Madame de Beaumont who has lately written a very prettynovel, called "Lettres du Marquis du Roselle." It is imitated, too, froman English standard, and in my opinion a most woful one; I mean theworks of Richardson, who wrote those deplorably tedious lamentations,"Clarissa" and "Sir Charles Grandison," which are pictures of high lifeas conceived by a bookseller, and romances as they would bespiritualized by a Methodist teacher: but Madame de Beaumont has almostavoided sermons, and almost reconciled sentiments and common sense. Readher novel--you will like it.

_DEBATE ON AMERICAN TAXES--PETITION OF THE PERIWIG-MAKERS--FEMALEHEAD-DRESSES--LORD BYRON'S DUEL--OPENING OF ALMACK'S--NO. 45._

TO THE EARL OF HERTFORD.

ARLINGTON STREET, _Feb._ 12, 1765.

A great many letters pass between us, my dear lord, but I think they arealmost all of my writing. I have not heard from you this age. I sent youtwo packets together by Mr. Freeman, with an account of our chiefdebates. Since the long day, I have been much out of order with a coldand cough, that turned to a fever: I am now taking James's powder, notwithout apprehensions of the gout, which it gave me two or three yearsago.

There has been nothing of note in Parliament but one slight day on theAmerican taxes,[1] which, Charles Townshend supporting, received apretty heavy thump from Barre, who is the present Pitt, and the dread ofall the vociferous Norths and Rigbys, on whose lungs depended so much ofMr. Grenville's power. Do you never hear them to Paris?

[Footnote 1: Mr. Grenville's taxation of stamps and other articles inour American colonies, which caused great discontent, and was repealedby Lord Rockingham's Ministry.]

The operations of the Opposition are suspended in compliment to Mr.Pitt, who has declared himself so warmly for the question on theDismission of officers, that that motion waits for his recovery. A callof the House is appointed for next Wednesday, but as he has had arelapse, the motion will probably be deferred. I should be very glad ifit was to be dropped entirely for this session, but the young men arewarm and not easily bridled.

If it was not too long to transcribe, I would send you an entertainingpetition of the periwig-makers to the King, in which they complain thatmen will wear their own hair. Should one almost wonder if carpenterswere to remonstrate, that since the peace their trade decays, and thatthere is no demand for wooden legs? _Apropos_ my Lady Hertford's friend,Lady Harriot Vernon, has quarrelled with me for smiling at the enormoushead-gear of her daughter, Lady Grosvenor. She came one night toNorthumberland House with such display of friz, that it literally spreadbeyond her shoulders. I happened to say it looked as if her parents hadstinted her in hair before marriage, and that she was determined toindulge her fancy now. This, among ten thousand things said by all theworld, was reported to Lady Harriot, and has occasioned my disgrace. Asshe never found fault with anybody herself, I excuse her. You will beless surprised to hear that the Duchess of Queensberry has not yet donedressing herself marvellously: she was at Court on Sunday in a gown andpetticoat of red flannel....

We have not a new book, play, intrigue, marriage, elopement, or quarrel;in short, we are very dull. For politics, unless the ministers wantonlythrust their hands into some fire, I think there will not even be asmoke. I am glad of it, for my heart is set on my journey to Paris, andI hate everything that stops me. Lord Byron's[1] foolish trial is likelyto protract the session a little; but unless there is any particularbusiness, I shall not stay for a puppet-show. Indeed, I can defend mystaying here by nothing but my ties to your brother. My health, I amsure, would be better in another climate in winter. Long days in theHouse kill me, and weary me into the bargain. The individuals of eachparty are alike indifferent to me; nor can I at this time of day grow tolove men whom I have laughed at all my lifetime--no, I cannotalter;--Charles Yorke or a Charles Townshend are alike to me, whetherministers or patriots. Men do not change in my eyes, because they quit ablack livery for a white one. When one has seen the whole scene shiftedround and round so often, one only smiles, whoever is the presentPolonius or the Gravedigger, whether they jeer the Prince, or flatterhis phrenzy.

[Footnote 1: In a previous letter Walpole mentions the duel caused by adispute at cards, in which Lord Byron was so unfortunate as to kill hiscousin, Mr. Chaworth.]

_Thursday night, 14th._

The new Assembly Room at Almack's[1] was opened the night before last,and they say is very magnificent, but it was empty; half the town is illwith colds, and many were afraid to go, as the house is scarcely builtyet. Almack advertized that it was built with hot bricks and boilingwater--think what a rage there must be for public places, if thisnotice, instead of terrifying, could draw anybody thither. They tell methe ceilings were dropping with wet--but can you believe me, when Iassure you the Duke of Cumberland was there?--Nay, had had a levee inthe morning, and went to the Opera before the assembly! There is a vastflight of steps, and he was forced to rest two or three times. If hedies of it,--and how should he not?--it will sound very silly whenHercules or Theseus ask him what he died of, to reply, "I caught mydeath on a damp staircase at a new club-room."

[Footnote 1: Almack was a Scotchman, who got up a sort of female club inKing Street, St. James's, at the place since known as Willis's Rooms. Inthe first half of the present century the balls of Almack's were themost fashionable and exclusive in London, under the government of sixlady patronesses, without a voucher from one of whom no one could obtainadmittance. For a long time after trousers had become the ordinary wearthey were proscribed at Almack's, and gentlemen were required to adhereto the more ancient and showy attire of knee-breeches; and it was saidthat in consequence of one having attempted unsuccessfully to obtainadmission in trousers the tickets for the next ball were headed with anotice that "gentlemen would not be admitted without breeches andstockings."]

Williams, the reprinter of the _North Briton_, stood in the pilloryto-day in Palace Yard.[1] He went in a hackney-coach, the number ofwhich was 45. The mob erected a gallows opposite him, on which they hunga boot[2] with a bonnet of straw. Then a collection was made forWilliams, which amounted to near L200. In short, every public eventinforms the Administration how thoroughly they are detested, and thatthey have not a friend whom they do not buy. Who can wonder, when everyman of virtue is proscribed, and they have neither parts nor charactersto impose even upon the mob! Think to what a government is sunk, when aSecretary of State is called in Parliament to his face "the mostprofligate sad dog in the kingdom," and not a man can open his lips inhis defence. Sure power must have some strange unknown charm, when itcan compensate for such contempt! I see many who triumph in these bitterpills which the ministry are so often forced to swallow; I own I do not;it is more mortifying to me to reflect how great and respectable wewere three years ago, than satisfactory to see those insulted who havebrought such shame upon us. 'Tis poor amends to national honour to know,that if a printer is set in the pillory, his country wishes it was myLord This, or Mr. That. They will be gathered to the Oxfords, andBolingbrokes, and ignominious of former days; but the wound they haveinflicted is perhaps indelible. That goes to _my_ heart, who had feltall the Roman pride of being one of the first nations upon earth!--Goodnight!--I will go to bed, and dream of Kings drawn in triumph; and thenI will go to Paris, and dream I am pro-consul there: pray, take care notto let me be awakened with an account of an invasion having taken placefrom Dunkirk![3] Yours ever, H.W.

[Footnote 1: This was the last occasion on which the punishment of thepillory was inflicted.]

[Footnote 2: A scandal, for which there was no foundation, imputed tothe Princess of Wales an undue intimacy with John Earl of Bute; and witha practical pun on his name the mob in some of the riots which werecommon in the first years of his reign showed their belief in the lie byfastening a _jack-boot_ and a petticoat together and feeding a bonfirewith them.]

[Footnote 3: One article in the late treaty of peace had stipulated forthe demolition of Dunkirk.]

_HIS "CASTLE OF OTRANTO"--BISHOP PERCY'S COLLECTION OF OLD BALLADS._

TO THE REV. WILLIAM COLE.

STRAWBERRY HILL, _March_ 9, 1765.

Dear Sir,--I had time to write but a short note with the "Castle ofOtranto," as your messenger called on me at four o'clock, as I was goingto dine abroad. Your partiality to me and Strawberry have, I hope,inclined you to excuse the wildness of the story. You will even havefound some traits to put you in mind of this place. When you read ofthe picture quitting its panel, did not you recollect the portrait ofLord Falkland, all in white, in my Gallery? Shall I even confess to you,what was the origin of this romance! I waked one morning, in thebeginning of last June, from a dream, of which, all I could recover was,that I had thought myself in an ancient castle (a very natural dream fora head filled like mine with Gothic story), and that on the uppermostbanister of a great staircase I saw a gigantic hand in armour. In theevening I sat down, and began to write, without knowing in the leastwhat I intended to say or relate. The work grew on my hands, and I grewfond of it--add, that I was very glad to think of anything, rather thanpolitics. In short, I was so engrossed with my tale, which I completedin less than two months, that one evening, I wrote from the time I haddrunk my tea, about six o'clock, till half an hour after one in themorning, when my hand and fingers were so weary, that I could not holdthe pen to finish the sentence, but left Matilda and Isabella talking,in the middle of a paragraph. You will laugh at my earnestness; but if Ihave amused you, by retracing with any fidelity the manners of ancientdays, I am content, and give you leave to think me idle as youplease....

Lord Essex's trial is printed with the State Trials. In return for yourobliging offer, I can acquaint you with a delightful publication of thiswinter, "A Collection of Old Ballads and Poetry," in three volumes, manyfrom Pepys's Collection at Cambridge. There were three such publishedbetween thirty and forty years ago, but very carelessly, and wantingmany in this set: indeed, there were others, of a looser sort, which thepresent editor [Dr. Percy[1]], who is a clergyman, thought it decent toomit....

[Footnote 1: Dr. Percy, Bishop of Dromore, in Ireland, was the heir maleof the ancient Earls of Northumberland, and the title of his collectionwas "Reliques of English Poetry." He was also himself the author of morethan one imitation of the old ballads, one of which is mentioned byJohnson in a letter to Mr. Langton: "Dr. Percy has written a long balladin many _fits_ [fyttes]. It is pretty enough: he has printed and willsoon publish it" (Boswell, iii., ann. 1771).]

My bower is determined, but not at all what it is to be. Though I writeromances, I cannot tell how to build all that belongs to them. MadameDanois, in the Fairy Tales, used to _tapestry_ them with _jonquils_; butas that furniture will not last above a fortnight in the year, I shallprefer something more huckaback. I have decided that the outside shallbe of _treillage_, which, however, I shall not commence, till I haveagain seen some of old Louis's old-fashioned _Galanteries_ atVersailles. Rosamond's bower, you, and I, and Tom Hearne know, was alabyrinth: but as my territory will admit of a very short clew, I layaside all thoughts of a mazy habitation: though a bower is verydifferent from an arbour, and must have more chambers than one. Inshort, I both know, and don't know what it should be. I am almost afraidI must go and read Spenser, and wade through his allegories, anddrawling stanzas, to get at a picture. But, good night! you see how onegossips, when one is alone, and at quiet on one's own dunghill!--Well!it may be trifling; yet it is such trifling as Ambition never is happyenough to know! Ambition orders palaces, but it is Content that chatsfor a page or two over a bower.

_ILLNESS OF THE KING--FRENCH AND ENGLISH ACTORS AND ACTRESSES: CLAIRON,GARRICK, QUIN, MRS. CLIVE._

TO THE EARL OF HERTFORD.

ARLINGTON STREET, _March_ 26, 1765.

Three weeks are a great while, my dear lord, for me to have been withoutwriting to you; but besides that I have passed many days at Strawberry,to cure my cold (which it has done), there has nothing happened worthsending across the sea. Politics have dozed, and common events been fastasleep. Of Guerchy's affair, you probably know more than I do; it is nowforgotten. I told him I had absolute proof of his innocence, for I wassure, that if he had offered money for assassination, the men who swearagainst him would have taken it.

The King has been very seriously ill, and in great danger. I would notalarm you, as there were hopes when he was at the worst. I doubt he isnot free yet from his complaint, as the humour fallen on his breaststill oppresses him. They talk of his having a levee next week, but hehas not appeared in public, and the bills are passed by commission; buthe rides out. The Royal Family have suffered like us mortals; the Dukeof Gloucester has had a fever, but I believe his chief complaint is ofa youthful kind. Prince Frederick is thought to be in a deepconsumption; and for the Duke of Cumberland, next post will probablycertify you of his death, as he is relapsed, and there are no hopes ofhim. He fell into his lethargy again, and when they waked him, he saidhe did not know whether he could call himself obliged to them.

I dined two days ago at Monsieur de Guerchy's, with the Count deCaraman, who brought me your letter. He seems a very agreeable man, andyou may be sure, for your sake, and Madame de Mirepoix's, no civilitiesin my power shall be wanting. I have not yet seen Schouvaloff,[1] aboutwhom one has more curiosity--it is an opportunity of gratifying thatpassion which one can so seldom do in personages of his historic nature,especially remote foreigners. I wish M. de Caraman had brought the"Siege of Calais," which he tells me is printed, though your account hasa little abated my impatience. They tell us the French comedians are toact at Calais this summer--is it possible they can be so absurd, orthink us so absurd as to go thither, if we would not go further? Iremember, at Rheims, they believed that English ladies went to Calais todrink champagne--is this the suite of that belief? I was mightilypleased with the Duc de Choiseul's answer to the Clairon;[2] but when Ihear of the French admiration of Garrick, it takes off something of mywonder at the prodigious adoration of him at home. I never couldconceive the marvellous merit of repeating the works of others in one'sown language with propriety, however well delivered. Shakespeare is notmore admired for writing his plays, than Garrick for acting them. Ithink him a very good and very various player--but several have pleasedme more, though I allow not in so many parts. Quin[3] in Falstaff, wasas excellent as Garrick[4] in Lear. Old Johnson far more natural ineverything he attempted. Mrs. Porter and your Dumesnil surpassed him inpassionate tragedy; Cibber and O'Brien were what Garrick could neverreach, coxcombs, and men of fashion. Mrs. Clive is at least as perfectin low comedy--and yet to me, Ranger was the part that suited Garrickthe best of all he ever performed. He was a poor Lothario, a ridiculousOthello, inferior to Quin in Sir John Brute and Macbeth, and to Cibberin Bayes, and a woful Lord Hastings and Lord Townley. Indeed, his Bayeswas original, but not the true part: Cibber was the burlesque of a greatpoet, as the part was designed, but Garrick made it a Garretteer. Thetown did not like him in Hotspur, and yet I don't know whether he didnot succeed in it beyond all the rest. Sir Charles Williams and LordHolland thought so too, and they were no bad judges. I am impatient tosee the Clairon, and certainly will, as I have promised, though I havenot fixed my day. But do you know you alarm me! There was a time when Iwas a match for Madame de Mirepoix at pharaoh, to any hour of the night,and I believe did play with her five nights in a week till three andfour in the morning--but till eleven o'clock to-morrow morning--Oh! thatis a little too much, even at loo. Besides, I shall not go to Paris forpharaoh--if I play all night, how shall I see everything all day?

[Footnote 1: Schouvaloff was notorious as a favourite of the EmpressCatharine.]

[Footnote 2: Mdlle. Clairon had been for some years the most admiredtragic actress in France. In that age actors and actresses in Francewere exposed to singular insults. M. Lacroix, in his "France in theEighteenth Century," tells us: "They were considered as inferior beingsin the social scale; excommunicated by the Church, and banished fromsociety, they were compelled to endure all the humiliations and affrontswhich the public chose to inflict on them in the theatre; and, if any ofthem had the courage to make head against the storm, and to resist theviolence and cruelty of the pit, they were sent to prison, and notreleased but on condition of apologising to the tyrants who had socruelly insulted them. Many had a sufficient sense of their own dignityto withdraw themselves from this odious despotism after having been inprison in Fort l'Evecque, their ordinary place of confinement, by theorder of the gentlemen of the chamber or the lieutenant of police; andit was in this way that Mdlle. Clairon bade farewell to the ComedieFrancaise and gave up acting in 1765, when at the very height of hertalent, and in the middle of her greatest dramatic triumphs." Theincident here alluded to by Walpole was that "a critic named Freron hadlibelled her in a journal to which he contributed; and, as she could notobtain justice, she applied to the Duc de Choiseul, the Prime Minister.Even he was unable to put her in the way of obtaining redress, andsought to pacify her by comparing her position to his own. 'I am,' saidhe, 'mademoiselle, like yourself, a public performer; with thisdifference in your favour, that you choose what parts you please, andare sure to be crowned with the applause of the public; for I reckon asnothing the bad taste of one or two wretched individuals who have themisfortune of not adoring you. I, on the other hand, am obliged to actthe parts imposed on me by necessity. I am sure to please nobody; I amsatirised, criticised, libelled, hissed; yet I continue to do my best.Let us both, then, sacrifice our little resentments and enmities to thepublic service, and serve our country, each in our own station. Besides,the Queen has condescended to forgive Freron, and you may therefore,without compromising your dignity, imitate Her Majesty's clemency'"("Mem. de Bachaumont," i. 61). But Mdlle. was not to be pacified, nor tobe persuaded to expose herself to a repetition of insult; but, thoughonly forty-one, she retired from the stage for ever.]

[Footnote 3: Quin was employed by the Princess of Wales to teach her sonelocution, and when he heard how generally his young sovereign waspraised for the grace and dignity of his delivery of his speech to hisParliament, he boasted, "Ah, it was I taught the boy to speak."]

[Footnote 4: Garrick was not only a great actor, but also a greatreformer of the stage. He seems to have excelled equally both in tragedyand comedy, which makes it natural to suppose that in some parts he mayhave been excelled by other actors; though he had no equal (and perhapsnever has had) in both lines. He was also himself the author of severalfarces of more than average merit.]

Lady Sophia Thomas has received the Baume de vie, for which she givesyou a thousand thanks, and I ten thousand.

We are extremely amused with the wonderful histories of your hyena[1] inthe Gevaudan; but our fox-hunters despise you: it is exactly theenchanted monster of old romances. If I had known its history a fewmonths ago, I believe it would have appeared in the "Castle ofOtranto,"--the success of which has, at last, brought me to own it,though the wildness of it made me terribly afraid; but it wascomfortable to have it please so much, before any mortal suspected theauthor: indeed, it met with too much honour far, for at first it wasuniversally believed to be Mr. Gray's. As all the first impression issold, I am hurrying out another, with a new preface, which I will sendyou.

[Footnote 1: A wolf of enormous size, and, in some respects, irregularconformation, which for a long time ravaged the Gevaudan; it was, soonafter the date of this letter, killed, and Mr. Walpole saw it in Paris.]

My last I think was of the 16th. Since that we have had events of almostevery sort. A whole administration dismissed, taken again, suspended,confirmed; an insurrection; and we have been at the eve of a civil war.Many thousand Weavers rose, on a bill for their relief being thrown outof the House of Lords by the Duke of Bedford. For four days they weresuffered to march about the town with colours displayed, petitioning theKing, surrounding the House of Lords, mobbing and wounding the Duke ofBedford, and at last besieging his house, which, with his family, wasnarrowly saved from destruction. At last it grew a regular siege andblockade; but by garrisoning it with horse and foot literally, andcalling in several regiments, the tumult is appeased. Lord Bute rashlytaking advantage of this unpopularity of his enemies, advised the Kingto notify to his Ministers that he intended to dismiss them,--and bythis step, no _succedaneum_ being prepared, reduced his Majesty to thealternative of laying his crown at the foot of Mr. Pitt, or of the Dukeof Bedford; and as it proved at last, of both. The Duke of Cumberlandwas sent for, and was sent to Mr. Pitt, from whom, though offeringalmost _carte blanche_, he received a peremptory refusal. The nextmeasure was to form a Ministry from the Opposition. Willing were they,but timid. Without Mr. Pitt nobody would engage. The King was forced todesire his old Ministers to stay where they were. They, who had ralliedtheir very dejected courage, demanded terms, and hard onesindeed--_promise_ of never consulting Lord Bute, dismission of hisbrother, and the appointment of Lord Granby to be Captain-General--sosoon did those tools of prerogative talk to their exalted sovereign inthe language of the Parliament to Charles I.

The King, rather than resign his sceptre on the first summons,determined to name his uncle Captain-General. Thus the commanders atleast were ready on each side; but the Ministers, who by the Treaty ofParis showed how little military glory was the object of their ambition,having contented themselves with seizing St. James's without bloodshed.They gave up their General, upon condition Mr. Mackenzie and LordHolland were sacrificed to them, and, tacitly, Lord Northumberland,whose government they bestow on Lord Weymouth without furnishing anotherplace to the earl, as was intended for him. All this is granted. Stillthere are inexplicable riddles. In the height of negotiation, LordTemple was reconciled to his brother George, and declares himself a fastfriend to the late and present Ministry. What part Mr. Pitt will act isnot yet known--probably not a hostile one; but here are fine seeds ofdivision and animosity sown!

I have thus in six words told you the matter of volumes. You mustanalyse them yourself, unless you have patience to wait till theconsequences are the comment. Don't you recollect very similar passagesin the time of Mr. Pelham, the Duke of Newcastle, Lord Granville, andMr. Fox? But those wounds did not penetrate so deep as these! Here areall the great, and opulent noble families engaged on one side or theother. Here is the King insulted and prisoner, his Mother stigmatised,his Uncle affronted, his Favourite persecuted. It is again a scene ofBohuns, Montforts, and Plantagenets.

While I am writing, I received yours of the 4th, containing therevolutions in the fabric and pictures of the palace Pitti. My dear sir,make no excuse; we each write what we have to write; and if our lettersremain, posterity will read the catastrophes of St. James's and thePalace Pitti with equal indifference, however differently they affectyou and me now. For my part, though agitated like Ludlow or my LordClarendon on the events of the day, I have more curiosity about Haveringin the Bower, the jointure house of ancient royal dowagers, than aboutQueen Isabella herself. Mr. Wilkes, whom you mention, will be still moreinterested, when he hears that his friend Lord Temple has shaken handswith his foes Halifax and Sandwich; and I don't believe that any amnestyis stipulated for the exile. Churchill, Wilkes's poet, used to wish thathe was at liberty to attack Mr. Pitt and Charles Townshend,--the momentis come, but Churchill is gone! Charles Townshend has got Lord Holland'splace--and yet the people will again and again believe that nothing isintended but their interest.

When I recollect all I have seen and known, I seem to be as old asMethuselah: indeed I was born in politics,--but I hope not to die inthem. With all my experience, these last five weeks have taught me morethan any other ten years; accordingly, a retreat is the whole scope ofmy wishes; but not yet arrived.

Your amiable sister, Mrs. Foote, is settled in town; I saw her lastnight at the Opera with Lady Ailesbury. She is enchanted withManzuoli--and you know her approbation is a test, who has heard all thegreat singers, learnt of all, and sings with as much taste as any ofthem. Adieu!

_PROSPECTS OF OLD AGE WHEN JOINED TO GOUT._

TO GEORGE MONTAGU, ESQ.

STRAWBERRY HILL, _July_ 28, 1765.

The less one is disposed, if one has any sense, to talk of oneself topeople that inquire only out of compliment, and do not listen to theanswer, the more satisfaction one feels in indulging a self-complacency,by sighing to those that really sympathise with our griefs. Do not thinkit is pain that makes me give this low-spirited air to my letter. No, itis the prospect of what is to come, not the sensation of what ispassing, that affects me. The loss of youth is melancholy enough; but toenter into old age through the gate of infirmity most disheartening. Myhealth and spirits make me take but slight notice of the transition,and, under the persuasion of temperance being a talisman, I marchedboldly on towards the descent of the hill, knowing I must fall at last,but not suspecting that I should stumble by the way. This confessionexplains the mortification I feel. A month's confinement to one whonever kept his bed a day is a stinging lesson, and has humbled myinsolence to almost indifference. Judge, then, how little I interestmyself about public events. I know nothing of them since I came hither,where I had not only the disappointment of not growing better, but a badreturn in one of my feet, so that I am still wrapped up and upon acouch. It was the more unlucky as Lord Hertford is come to England for avery few days. He has offered to come to me; but as I then should seehim only for some minutes, I propose being carried to town to-morrow. Itwill be so long before I can expect to be able to travel, that my Frenchjourney will certainly not take place so soon as I intended, and if LordHertford goes to Ireland, I shall be still more fluctuating; for thoughthe Duke and Duchess of Richmond will replace them at Paris, and are aseager to have me with them, I have had so many more years heaped upon mewithin this month, that I have not the conscience to trouble youngpeople, when I can no longer be as juvenile as they are. Indeed I shallthink myself decrepit, till I again saunter into the garden in myslippers and without my hat in all weathers,--a point I am determined toregain if possible; for even this experience cannot make me resign mytemperance and my hardiness. I am tired of the world, its politics, itspursuits, and its pleasures; but it will cost me some struggles before Isubmit to be tender and careful. Christ! Can I ever stoop to the regimenof old age? I do not wish to dress up a withered person, nor drag itabout to public places; but to sit in one's room, clothed warmly,expecting visits from folks I don't wish to see, and tended and natteredby relations impatient for one's death! Let the gout do its worse asexpeditiously as it can; it would be more welcome in my stomach than inmy limbs. I am not made to bear a course of nonsense and advice, butmust play the fool in my own way to the last, alone with all my heart,if I cannot be with the very few I wished to see: but, to depend forcomfort on others, who would be no comfort to me; this surely is not astate to be preferred to death: and nobody can have truly enjoyed theadvantages of youth, health, and spirits, who is content to existwithout the two last, which alone bear any resemblance to the first.

You see how difficult it is to conquer my proud spirit: low and weak asI am, I think my resolution and perseverance will get the better, andthat I shall still be a gay shadow; at least, I will impose any severityupon myself, rather than humour the gout, and sink into that indulgencewith which most people treat it. Bodily liberty is as dear to me asmental, and I would as soon flatter any other tyrant as the gout, myWhiggism extending as much to my health as to my principles, and beingas willing to part with life, when I cannot preserve it, as your uncleAlgernon when his freedom was at stake. Adieu!

_HAS REACHED PARIS--THE FRENCH OPERA--ILLNESS OF THE DAUPHIN--POPULARITYOF MR. HUME._

TO THE RIGHT HON. LADY HERVEY.

PARIS, _Sept._ 14, 1765.

I am but two days old here, Madam, and I doubt I wish I was really so,and had my life to begin, to live it here. You see how just I am, andready to make _amende honorable_ to your ladyship. Yet I have seen verylittle. My Lady Hertford has cut me to pieces, and thrown me into acaldron with tailors, periwig-makers, snuff-box-wrights, milliners, &c.,which really took up but little time; and I am come out quite new, witheverything but youth. The journey recovered me with magic expedition. Mystrength, if mine could ever be called strength, is returned; and thegout going off in a minuet step. I will say nothing of my spirits, whichare indecently juvenile, and not less improper for my age than for thecountry where I am; which, if you will give me leave to say it, has athought too much gravity. I don't venture to laugh or talk nonsense, butin English.

Madame Geoffrin came to town but last night, and is not visible onSundays; but I hope to deliver your ladyship's letter and packetto-morrow. Mesdames d'Aiguillon, d'Egmont, and Chabot, and the Duc deNivernois are all in the country. Madame de Boufflers is at l'IsleAdam, whither my Lady Hertford is gone to-night to sup, for the firsttime, being no longer chained down to the incivility of an ambassadress.She returns after supper; an irregularity that frightens me, who havenot yet got rid of all my barbarisms. There is one, alas! I never shallget over--the dirt of this country: it is melancholy, after the purityof Strawberry! The narrowness of the streets, trees clipped to resemblebrooms, and planted on pedestals of chalk, and a few other points, donot edify me. The French Opera, which I have heard to-night, disgustedme as much as ever; and the more for being followed by the Devin deVillage, which shows that they can sing without cracking the drum ofone's ear. The scenes and dances are delightful: the Italian comedycharming. Then I am in love with _treillage_ and fountains, and willprove it at Strawberry. Chantilly is so exactly what it was when I sawit above twenty years ago, that I recollected the very position ofMonsieur le Duc's chair and the gallery. The latter gave me the firstidea of mine; but, presumption apart, mine is a thousand times prettier.I gave my Lord Herbert's compliments to the statue of his friend theConstable; and, waiting some time for the concierge, I called out, _Ouest Vatel_?

In short, Madam, being as tired as one can be of one's own country,--Idon't say whether this is much or little,--I find myself wonderfullydisposed to like this. Indeed I wish I could wash it. Madame de Guerchyis all goodness to me; but that is not new. I have already beenprevented by great civilities from Madame de Brentheim and my oldfriend Madame de Mirepoix; but am not likely to see the latter much, whois grown a most particular favourite of the King, and seldom from him.The Dauphin is ill, and thought in a very bad way. I hope he will live,lest the theatres should be shut up. Your ladyship knows I never troublemy head about royalties, farther than it affects my interest. In truth,the way that princes affect my interest is not the common way.

I have not yet tapped the chapter of baubles, being desirous of makingmy revenues maintain me here as long as possible. It will be time enoughto return to my Parliament when I want money.

Mr. Hume, that is _the Mode_, asked much about your ladyship. I haveseen Madame de Monaco, and think her very handsome, and extremelypleasing. The younger Madame d'Egmont, I hear, disputes the palm withher; and Madame de Brionne is not left without partisans. The nymphs ofthe theatres are _laides a faire peur_, which at my age is a piece ofluck, like going into a shop of curiosities, and finding nothing totempt one to throw away one's money.

There are several English here, whether I will or not. I certainly didnot come for them, and shall connect with them as little as possible.The few I value, I hope sometimes to hear of. Your ladyship guesses howfar that wish extends. Consider, too, Madam, that one of myunworthinesses is washed and done away, by the confession I made in thebeginning of my letter.

_IS MAKING NEW FRIENDS IN PARIS--DECAY OF THE FRENCH STAGE--LEKAIN--DUMENIL--NEW FRENCH INCLINATION FOR PHILOSOPHY ANDFREE-THINKING--GENERAL ADMIRATION OF HUME'S HISTORY AND RICHARDSON'SNOVELS._

TO GEORGE MONTAGU, ESQ.

PARIS, _Sept._ 22, 1765.

The concern I felt at not seeing you before I left England, might makeme express myself warmly, but I assure you it was nothing but concern,nor was mixed with a grain of pouting. I knew some of your reasons, andguessed others. The latter grieve me heartily; but I advise you to do asI do: when I meet with ingratitude, I take a short leave both of it andits host. Formerly I used to look out for indemnification somewhereelse; but having lived long enough to learn that the reparationgenerally proved a second evil of the same sort, I am content now toskin over such wounds with amusements, which at least leave no scars. Itis true, amusements do not always amuse when we bid them. I find it sohere; nothing strikes me; everything I do is indifferent to me. I likethe people very well, and their way of life very well; but as neitherwere my object, I should not much care if they were any other people, orit was any other way of life. I am out of England, and my purpose isanswered.

Nothing can be more obliging than the reception I meet with everywhere.It may not be more sincere (and why should it?) than our cold and barecivility; but it is better dressed, and looks natural; one asks nomore. I have begun to sup in French houses, and as Lady Hertford hasleft Paris to-day, shall increase my intimacies. There are swarms ofEnglish here, but most of them are going, to my great satisfaction. Asthe greatest part are very young, they can no more be entertaining to methan I to them, and it certainly was not my countrymen that I came tolive with. Suppers please me extremely; I love to rise and breakfastlate, and to trifle away the day as I like. There are sights enough toanswer that end, and shops you know are an endless field for me. Thecity appears much worse to me than I thought I remembered it. The Frenchmusic as shocking as I knew it was. The French stage is fallen off,though in the only part I have seen Le Kain I admire him extremely. Heis very ugly and ill made, and yet has an heroic dignity which Garrickwants, and great fire. The Dumenil I have not seen yet, but shall in aday or two. It is a mortification that I cannot compare her with theClairon, who has left the stage. Grandval I saw through a whole playwithout suspecting it was he. Alas! four-and-twenty years make strangehavoc with us mortals! You cannot imagine how this struck me! TheItalian comedy, now united with their _opera comique_, is their mostperfect diversion; but alas! harlequin, my dear favourite harlequin, mypassion, makes me more melancholy than cheerful. Instead of laughing, Isit silently reflecting how everything loses charms when one's own youthdoes not lend it gilding! When we are divested of that eagerness andillusion with which our youth presents objects to us, we are but the_caput mortuum_ of pleasure.

Grave as these ideas are, they do not unfit me for French company. Thepresent tone is serious enough in conscience. Unluckily, the subjects oftheir conversation are duller to me than my own thoughts, which may betinged with melancholy reflections, but I doubt from my constitutionwill never be insipid.

The French affect philosophy, literature, and free-thinking: the firstnever did, and never will possess me; of the two others I have long beentired. Free-thinking is for one's self, surely not for society; besidesone has settled one's way of thinking, or knows it cannot be settled,and for others I do not see why there is not as much bigotry inattempting conversions from any religion as to it. I dined to-day with adozen _savans_, and though all the servants were waiting, theconversation was much more unrestrained, even on the Old Testament, thanI would suffer at my own table in England, if a single footman waspresent. For literature, it is very amusing when one has nothing else todo. I think it rather pedantic in society; tiresome when displayedprofessedly; and, besides, in this country one is sure it is only thefashion of the day. Their taste in it is worst of all: could one believethat when they read our authors, Richardson and Mr. Hume should be theirfavourites? The latter is treated here with perfect veneration. HisHistory, so falsified in many points, so partial in as many, so veryunequal in its parts, is thought the standard of writing.

In their dress and equipages they are grown very simple. We English areliving upon their old gods and goddesses; I roll about in a chariotdecorated with cupids, and look like the grandfather of Adonis.

Of their parliaments and clergy I hear a good deal, and attend verylittle: I cannot take up any history in the middle, and was too sick ofpolitics at home to enter into them here. In short, I have done with theworld, and live in it rather than in a desert, like you. Few men canbear absolute retirement, and we English worst of all. We grow sohumorsome, so obstinate and capricious, and so prejudiced, that itrequires a fund of good-nature like yours not to grow morose. Companykeeps our rind from growing too coarse and rough; and though at myreturn I design not to mix in public, I do not intend to be quite arecluse. My absence will put it in my power to take up or drop as muchas I please. Adieu! I shall inquire about your commission of books, buthaving been arrived but ten days, have not yet had time. Need I say?--noI need not--that nobody can be more affectionately yours than, &c.

_HIS PRESENTATION AT COURT--ILLNESS OF THE DAUPHIN--DESCRIPTION OF HISTHREE SONS._

TO JOHN CHUTE, ESQ.

PARIS, _Oct._ 3, 1765.

I don't know where you are, nor when I am likely to hear of you. I writeat random, and, as I talk, the first thing that comes into my pen.

I am, as you certainly conclude, much more amused than pleased. At acertain time of life, sights and new objects may entertain one, but newpeople cannot find any place in one's affection. New faces with somename or other belonging to them, catch my attention for a minute--Icannot say many preserve it. Five or six of the women that I have seenalready are very sensible. The men are in general much inferior, and noteven agreeable. They sent us their best, I believe, at first, the Duc deNivernois. Their authors, who by the way are everywhere, are worse thantheir own writings, which I don't mean as a compliment to either. Ingeneral, the style of conversation is solemn, pedantic, and seldomanimated, but by a dispute. I was expressing my aversion to disputes:Mr. Hume, who very gratefully admires the tone of Paris, having neverknown any other tone, said with great surprise, "Why, what do you like,if you hate both disputes and whisk?"

What strikes me the most upon the whole is, the total difference ofmanners between them and us, from the greatest object to the least.There is not the smallest similitude in the twenty-four hours. It isobvious in every trifle. Servants carry their lady's train, and put herinto her coach with their hat on. They walk about the streets in therain with umbrellas to avoid putting on their hats; driving themselvesin open chaises in the country without hats, in the rain too, and yetoften wear them in a chariot in Paris when it does not rain. The veryfootmen are powdered from the break of day, and yet wait behind theirmaster, as I saw the Duc of Praslin's do, with a red pocket-handkerchiefabout their necks. Versailles, like everything else, is a mixture ofparade and poverty, and in every instance exhibits something mostdissonant from our manners. In the colonnades, upon the staircases, nayin the antechambers of the royal family, there are people selling allsorts of wares. While we were waiting in the Dauphin's sumptuousbedchamber, till his dressing-room door should be opened, two fellowswere sweeping it, and dancing about in sabots to rub the floor.

You perceive that I have been presented. The Queen took great notice ofme; none of the rest said a syllable. You are let into the King'sbedchamber just as he has put on his shirt; he dresses and talksgood-humouredly to a few, glares at strangers, goes to mass, to dinner,and a-hunting. The good old Queen, who is like Lady Primrose in theface, and Queen Caroline in the immensity of her cap, is at herdressing-table, attended by two or three old ladies, who are languishingto be in Abraham's bosom, as the only man's bosom to whom they can hopefor admittance. Thence you go to the Dauphin, for all is done in anhour. He scarce stays a minute; indeed, poor creature, he is a ghost,and cannot possibly last three months. The Dauphiness is in herbedchamber, but dressed and standing; looks cross, is not civil, and hasthe true Westphalian grace and accents. The four Mesdames, who areclumsy plump old wenches, with a bad likeness to their father, stand ina bedchamber in a row, with black cloaks and knotting-bags, lookinggood-humoured, not knowing what to say, and wriggling as if they wantedto make water. This ceremony too is very short; then you are carried tothe Dauphin's three boys, who you may be sure only bow and stare. TheDuke of Berry[1] looks weak and weak-eyed: the Count de Provence is afine boy; the Count d'Artois well enough. The whole concludes withseeing the Dauphin's little girl dine, who is as round and as fat as apudding.

[Footnote 1: The Duc de Berri was afterwards Louis XVI.; the Comte deProvence became Louis XVIII.; and the Comte d'Artois, Charles X.]

In the Queen's antechamber we foreigners and the foreign ministers wereshown the famous beast of the Gevaudan, just arrived, and covered with acloth, which two chasseurs lifted up. It is an absolute wolf, butuncommonly large, and the expression of agony and fierceness remainsstrongly imprinted on its dead jaws.

I dined at the Duc of Praslin's with four-and-twenty ambassadors andenvoys, who never go but on Tuesdays to Court. He does the honourssadly, and I believe nothing else well, looking important and empty. TheDuc de Choiseul's face, which is quite the reverse of gravity, does notpromise much more. His wife is gentle, pretty, and very agreeable. TheDuchess of Praslin, jolly, red-faced, looking very vulgar, and beingvery attentive and civil. I saw the Duc de Richelieu in waiting, who ispale, except his nose, which is red, much wrinkled, and exactly aremnant of that age which produced General Churchill, Wilks the player,the Duke of Argyll, &c. Adieu!

I have received your letter by General Vernon, and another, to which Ihave writ an answer, but was disappointed of a conveyance I expected.You shall have it with additions, by the first messenger that goes; butI cannot send it by the post, as I have spoken very freely of somepersons you name, in which we agree thoroughly. These few lines are onlyto tell you I am not idle in writing to you.

I almost repent having come hither; for I like the way of life and manyof the people so well, that I doubt I shall feel more regret at leavingParis than I expected. It would sound vain to tell you the honours anddistinctions I receive, and how much I am in fashion; yet when they comefrom the handsomest women in France, and the most respectable in pointof character, can one help being a little proud? If I was twenty yearsyounger, I should wish they were not quite so respectable. Madame deBrionne, whom I have never seen, and who was to have met me at supperlast night at the charming Madame d'Egmont's, sent me an invitation bythe latter for Wednesday next. I was engaged, and hesitated. I was told,"Comment! savez-vous que c'est qu'elle ne feroit pas pour toute laFrance?" However, lest you should dread my returning a perfect oldswain, I study my wrinkles, compare myself and my limbs to every plateof larks I see, and treat my understanding with at least as littlemercy. Yet, do you know, my present fame is owing to a very triflingcomposition, but which has made incredible noise. I was one evening atMadame Geoffrin's joking on Rousseau's affectations and contradictions,and said some things that diverted them. When I came home, I put theminto a letter, and showed it next day to Helvetius and the Duc deNivernois; who were so pleased with it, that after telling me somefaults in the language, which you may be sure there were, theyencouraged me to let it be seen. As you know I willingly laugh atmountebanks, _political_ or literary, let their talents be ever sogreat, I was not averse. The copies have spread like wild-fire; _et mevoici a la mode_! I expect the end of my reign at the end of the weekwith great composure. Here is the letter:--

[Footnote 1: Rousseau was always ready to believe in plots to mortifyand injure him; and he was so much annoyed by this composition ofWalpole's, that, shortly after his arrival in England, he addressed thefollowing letter to _The London Chronicle_:--

"WOOTTON [IN DERBYSHIRE], _March_ 3, 1766

"You have failed, Sir, in the respect which every private person owes toa crowned head, in attributing publicly to the King of Prussia a letterfull of extravagance and malignity, of which, for those very reasons,you ought to have known he could not be the author. You have even daredto transcribe his signature, as if you had seen him write it with hisown hand. I inform you, Sir, that the letter was fabricated at Paris,and what rends my heart is that the impostor has accomplices in England.You owe to the King of Prussia, to truth, and to me to print the letterwhich I write to you, and which I sign, as an atonement for a fault withwhich you would doubtless reproach yourself severely, if you knew towhat a dark transaction you have rendered yourself an accessory. Isalute you, Sir, very sincerely,

"ROUSSEAU."]

The Princesse de Ligne, whose mother was an Englishwoman, made a goodobservation to me last night. She said, "Je suis roi, je puis vousprocurer de malheurs," was plainly the stroke of an English pen. Isaid, then I had certainly not well imitated the character in which Iwrote. You will say I am a bold man to attack both Voltaire andRousseau. It is true; but I shoot at their heel, at their vulnerablepart.

I beg your pardon for taking up your time with these trifles. The dayafter to-morrow we go in cavalcade with the Duchess of Richmond to heraudience; I have got my cravat and shammy shoes. Adieu!

_A CONSTANT ROUND OF AMUSEMENTS--A GALLERY OF FEMALE PORTRAITS--MADAMEGEOFFRIN--MADAME DU DEFFAND--MADAME DE MIREPOIX--MADAME DEBOUFFLERS--MADAME DE ROCHFORT--THE MARECHALE DE LUXEMBURG--THE DUCHESSEDE CHOISEUL--AN OLD FRENCH DANDY--M. DE MAUREPAS--POPULARITY OF HISLETTER TO ROUSSEAU._

TO MR. GRAY.

PARIS, _Jan._ 25, 1766.

I am much indebted to you for your kind letter and advice; and though itis late to thank you for it, it is at least a stronger proof that I donot forget it. However, I am a little obstinate, as you know, on thechapter of health, and have persisted through this Siberian winter innot adding a grain to my clothes, and going open-breasted without anunder waistcoat. In short, though I like extremely to live, it must bein my own way, as long as I can: it is not youth I court, but liberty;and I think making oneself tender is issuing a _general warrant_against one's own person. I suppose I shall submit to confinement when Icannot help it; but I am indifferent enough to life not to care if itends soon after my prison begins.

I have not delayed so long to answer your letter, from not thinking ofit, or from want of matter, but from want of time. I am constantlyoccupied, engaged, amused, till I cannot bring a hundredth part of whatI have to say into the compass of a letter. You will lose nothing bythis: you know my volubility, when I am full of new subjects; and I haveat least many hours of conversation for you at my return. One does notlearn a whole nation in four or five months; but, for the time, few, Ibelieve, have seen, studied, or got so much acquainted with the Frenchas I have.

By what I said of their religious or rather irreligious opinions, youmust not conclude their people of quality atheists--at least, not themen. Happily for them, poor souls! they are not capable of going so farinto thinking. They assent to a great deal, because it is the fashion,and because they don't know how to contradict. They are ashamed todefend the Roman Catholic religion, because it is quite exploded; but Iam convinced they believe it in their hearts. They hate the Parliamentsand the philosophers, and are rejoiced that they may still idoliseroyalty. At present, too, they are a little triumphant: the Court hasshown a little spirit, and the Parliaments much less: but as the Duc deChoiseul, who is very fluttering, unsettled, and inclined to thephilosophers, has made a compromise with the Parliament of Bretagne, theParliaments might venture out again, if, as I fancy will be the case,they are not glad to drop a cause, of which they began to be a littleweary of the inconveniences.

The generality of the men, and more than the generality are dull andempty. They have taken up gravity, thinking it was philosophy andEnglish, and so have acquired nothing in the room of their naturallevity and cheerfulness. However, as their high opinion of their owncountry remains, for which they can no longer assign any reason, theyare contemptuous and reserved, instead of being ridiculously,consequently pardonably, impertinent. I have wondered, knowing my owncountrymen, that we had attained such a superiority. I wonder no longer,and have a little more respect for English _heads_ than I had.

The women do not seem of the same country: if they are less gay thanthey were, they are more informed, enough to make them very conversable.I know six or seven with very superior understandings; some of them withwit, or with softness, or very good sense.

[Illustration: THOMAS GRAY, THE POET.

_From a drawing in the National Portrait Gallery by James Basire, aftera sketch by Gray's friend and biographer, the Rev. William Mason._]

Madame Geoffrin, of whom you have heard much, is an extraordinary woman,with more common sense than I almost ever met with. Great quickness indiscovering characters, penetration in going to the bottom of them, anda pencil that never fails in a likeness--seldom a favourable one. Sheexacts and preserves, spite of her birth and their nonsensicalprejudices about nobility, great court and attention. This she acquiresby a thousand little arts and offices of friendship: and by a freedomand severity, which seem to be her sole end of drawing a concourse toher; for she insists on scolding those she inveigles to her. She haslittle taste and less knowledge, but protects artisans and authors, andcourts a few people to have the credit of serving her dependents. Shewas bred under the famous Madame Tencin,[1] who advised her never torefuse any man; for, said her mistress, though nine in ten should notcare a farthing for you, the tenth may live to be an useful friend. Shedid not adopt or reject the whole plan, but fully retained the purportof the maxim. In short, she is an epitome of empire, subsisting byrewards and punishments. Her great enemy, Madame du Deffand,[2] was fora short time mistress of the Regent, is now very old and stoneblind, butretains all her vivacity, wit, memory, judgment, passions, andagreeableness. She goes to Operas, Plays, suppers, and Versailles; givessuppers twice a week; has everything new read to her; makes new songsand epigrams, ay, admirably, and remembers every one that has been madethese four-score years. She corresponds with Voltaire, dictates charmingletters to him, contradicts him, is no bigot to him or anybody, andlaughs both at the clergy and the philosophers. In a dispute, into whichshe easily falls, she is very warm, and yet scarce ever in the wrong:her judgment on every subject is as just as possible; on every point ofconduct as wrong as possible: for she is all love and hatred, passionatefor her friends to enthusiasm, still anxious to be loved, I don't meanby lovers, and a vehement enemy, but openly. As she can have noamusement but conversation, the least solitude and _ennui_ areinsupportable to her, and put her into the power of several worthlesspeople, who eat her suppers when they can eat nobody's of higher rank;wink to one another and laugh at her; hate her because she has fortytimes more parts--and venture to hate her because she is not rich.[3]She has an old friend whom I must mention, a Monsieur Pondeveyle, authorof the "Fatpuni," and the "Complaisant," and of those pretty novels, the"Comte de Cominge," the "Siege of Calais," and "Les Malheurs del'Amour." Would you not expect this old man to be very agreeable? He canbe so, but seldom is: yet he has another very different and veryamusing talent, the art of parody, and is unique in his kind. Hecomposes tales to the tunes of long dances: for instance, he has adaptedthe Regent's "Daphnis and Chloe" to one, and made it ten times moreindecent; but is so old, and sings it so well, that it is permitted inall companies. He has succeeded still better in _les caracteres de ladanse_, to which he has adapted words that express all the characters oflove. With all this he has not the least idea of cheerfulness inconversation; seldom speaks but on grave subjects, and not often onthem; is a humourist, very supercilious, and wrapt up in admiration ofhis own country, as the only judge of his merit. His air and look arecold and forbidding; but ask him to sing, or praise his works, his eyesand smiles open and brighten up. In short, I can show him to you: theself-applauding poet in Hogarth's Rake's Progress, the second print, isso like his very features and very wig, that you would know him by it,if you came hither--for he certainly will not go to you.

[Footnote 1: _"The famous Mme. Tencin._" "Infamous" would be moreappropriate. She had been the mistress of Dubois, and was the mother ofD'Alembert.]

[Footnote 2: His description of her on first making her acquaintance wasnot altogether complimentary. In a letter of the preceding October hecalls her "an old blind debauchee of wit." In fact, she had been one ofthe mistresses of the Regent, Duc d'Orleans, and at first his chiefinducement to court her society was to hear anecdotes of the Regent. Butgradually he became so enamoured of her society that he kept up anintimacy with her till her death in 1783. There must be allowed to bemuch delicate perception and delineation of character in thisdescription of the French fine ladies of the time.]

[Footnote 3: To the above portrait of Madame du Deffand it may be usefulto subjoin the able development of her character which appeared in the_Quarterly Review_ for May, 1811, in its critique on her Letters toWalpole:--"This lady seems to have united the lightness of the Frenchcharacter with the solidity of the English. She was easy and volatile,yet judicious and acute; sometimes profound and sometimes superficial.She had a wit playful, abundant, and well-toned; an admirable conceptionof the ridiculous, and great skill in exposing it; a turn for satire,which she indulged, not always in the best-natured manner, yet withirresistible effect; powers of expression varied, appropriate, flowingfrom the source, and curious without research; a refined taste forletters, and a judgment both of men and books in a high degreeenlightened and accurate."]

Madame de Mirepoix's understanding is excellent of the useful kind, andcan be so when she pleases of the agreeable kind. She has read, butseldom shows it, and has perfect taste. Her manner is cold, but verycivil; and she conceals even the blood of Lorraine, without everforgetting it. Nobody in France knows the world better, and nobody ispersonally so well with the King. She is false, artful, and insinuatingbeyond measure when it is her interest, but indolent and a coward. Shenever had any passion but gaming, and always loses. For ever payingcourt, the sole produce of a life of art is to get money from the Kingto carry on a course of paying debts or contracting new ones, which shedischarges as fast as she is able. She advertised devotion to get made_dame du palais_ to the Queen; and the very next day this Princess ofLorraine was seen riding backwards with Madame Pompadour in the latter'scoach. When the King was stabbed, and heartily frightened, the mistresstook a panic too, and consulted D'Argenson, whether she had not bestmake off in time. He hated her, and said, By all means. Madame deMirepoix advised her to stay. The King recovered his spirits, D'Argensonwas banished,[1] and La Marechale inherited part of the mistress'scredit.--I must interrupt my history of illustrious women with ananecdote of Monsieur de Maurepas, with whom I am much acquainted, andwho has one of the few heads which approach to good ones, and wholuckily for us was disgraced, and the marine dropped, because it was hisfavourite object and province. He employed Pondeveyle to make a song onthe Pompadour: it was clever and bitter, and did not spare even Majesty.This was Maurepas absurd enough to sing at supper at Versailles.Banishment ensued; and lest he should ever be restored, the mistresspersuaded the King that he had poisoned her predecessor Madame deChateauroux. Maurepas is very agreeable, and exceedingly cheerful; yet Ihave seen a transient silent cloud when politics are talked of.

[Footnote 1: The Comte d'Argenson was Minister at War.]

Madame de Boufflers, who was in England, is a _savante_, mistress of thePrince of Conti, and very desirous of being his wife. She is two women,the upper and the lower. I need not tell you that the lower is gallant,and still has pretensions. The upper is very sensible, too, and has ameasured eloquence that is just and pleasing--but all is spoiled by anunrelaxed attention to applause. You would think she was always sittingfor her picture to her biographer.

Madame de Rochfort is different from all the rest. Her understanding isjust and delicate; with a finesse of wit that is the result ofreflection. Her manner is soft and feminine, and though a _savante_,without any declared pretensions. She is the _decent_ friend of Monsieurde Nivernois; for you must not believe a syllable of what you read intheir novels. It requires the greatest curiosity, or the greatesthabitude, to discover the smallest connexion between the sexes here. Nofamiliarity, but under the veil of friendship, is permitted, and Love'sdictionary is as much prohibited, as at first sight one should think hisritual was. All you hear, and that pronounced with _nonchalance_, is,that _Monsieur un tel_ has had _Madame une telle_.

The Duc de Nivernois has parts, and writes at the top of the mediocre,but, as Madame Geoffrin says, is _manque par tout; guerrier manque,ambassadeur manque, homme d'affaires manque_, and _auteur manque_--no,he is not _homme de naissance manque_. He would think freely, but hassome ambition of being governor to the Dauphin, and is more afraid ofhis wife and daughter, who are ecclesiastic fagots. The formerout-chatters the Duke of Newcastle; and the latter, Madame de Gisors,exhausts Mr. Pitt's eloquence in defence of the Archbishop of Paris.Monsieur de Nivernois lives in a small circle of dependent admirers, andMadame de Rochfort is high-priestess for a small salary of credit.

The Duchess of Choiseul, the only young one of these heroines, is notvery pretty, but has fine eyes, and is a little model in waxwork, whichnot being allowed to speak for some time as incapable, has a hesitationand modesty, the latter of which the Court has not cured, and the formerof which is atoned for by the most interesting sound of voice, andforgotten in the most elegant turn and propriety of expression. Oh! itis the gentlest, amiable, civil little creature that ever came out of afairy egg! so just in its phrases and thoughts, so attentive andgood-natured! Everybody loves it but its husband, who prefers his ownsister the Duchesse de Granmont, an Amazonian, fierce, haughty dame, wholoves and hates arbitrarily, and is detested. Madame de Choiseul,passionately fond of her husband, was the martyr of this union, but atlast submitted with a good grace; has gained a little credit with him,and is still believed to idolize him. But I doubt it--she takes too muchpains to profess it.

I cannot finish my list without adding a much more common character--butmore complete in its kind than any of the foregoing, the Marechale deLuxembourg. She has been very handsome, very abandoned, and verymischievous. Her beauty is gone, her lovers are gone, and she thinks thedevil is coming. This dejection has softened her into being ratheragreeable, for she has wit and good-breeding; but you would swear, bythe restlessness of her person and the horrors she cannot conceal, thatshe had signed the compact, and expected to be called upon in a week forthe performance.

I could add many pictures, but none so remarkable. In those I send youthere is not a feature bestowed gratis or exaggerated. For the beauties,of which there are a few considerable, as Mesdames de Brionne, deMonaco, et d'Egmont, they have not yet lost their characters, nor gotany.

You must not attribute my intimacy with Paris to curiosity alone. Anaccident unlocked the doors for me. That _passe-par-tout_ called thefashion has made them fly open--and what do you think was thatfashion?--I myself. Yes, like Queen Eleanor in the ballad, I sunk atCharing Cross, and have risen in the Fauxbourg St. Germain. A_plaisanterie_ on Rousseau, whose arrival here in his way to you broughtme acquainted with many anecdotes conformable to the idea I hadconceived of him, got about, was liked much more than it deserved,spread like wild-fire, and made me the subject of conversation.Rousseau's devotees were offended. Madame de Boufflers, with a tone ofsentiment, and the accents of lamenting humanity, abused me heartily,and then complained to myself with the utmost softness. I actedcontrition, but had liked to have spoiled all, by growing dreadfullytired of a second lecture from the Prince of Conti, who took up theball, and made himself the hero of a history wherein he had nothing todo. I listened, did not understand half he said (nor he either), forgotthe rest, said Yes when I should have said No, yawned when I should havesmiled, and was very penitent when I should have rejoiced at my pardon.Madame de Boufflers was more distressed, for he owned twenty times morethan I had said: she frowned, and made him signs; but she had wound uphis clack, and there was no stopping it. The moment she grew angry, thelord of the house grew charmed, and it has been my fault if I am not atthe head of a numerous sect; but, when I left a triumphant party inEngland, I did not come here to be at the head of a fashion. However, Ihave been sent for about like an African prince, or a learnedcanary-bird, and was, in particular, carried by force to the Princess ofTalmond,[1] the Queen's cousin, who lives in a charitable apartment inthe Luxembourg, and was sitting on a small bed hung with saints andSobieskis, in a corner of one of those vast chambers, by two blinkingtapers. I stumbled over a cat and a footstool in my journey to herpresence. She could not find a syllable to say to me, and the visitended with her begging a lap-dog. Thank the Lord! though this is thefirst month, it is the last week of my reign; and I shall resign mycrown with great satisfaction to a _bouillie_ of chestnuts, which isjust invented, and whose annals will be illustrated by so manyindigestions, that Paris will not want anything else these three weeks.I will enclose the fatal letter[2] after I have finished this enormousone; to which I will only add, that nothing has interrupted my Sevigneresearches but the frost. The Abbe de Malesherbes has given me fullpower to ransack Livry. I did not tell you, that by great accident, whenI thought on nothing less, I stumbled on an original picture of theComte de Grammont. Adieu! You are generally in London in March; I shallbe there by the end of it.[3]

[Footnote 1: The Princess of Talmond was born in Poland, and said to beallied to the Queen, Marie Leczinska, with whom she came to France, andthere married a prince of the house of Bouillon.]

[Footnote 2: The letter from the King of Prussia to Rousseau.--WALPOLE.]

[Footnote 3: Gray, in reference to this letter, writes thus to Dr.Wharton, on the 5th of March:--"Mr. Walpole writes me now and then along and lively letter from Paris, to which place he went the lastsummer, with the gout upon him; sometimes in his limbs; often in hisstomach and head. He has got somehow well (not by means of the climate,one would think) goes to all public places, sees all the best company,and is very much in fashion. He says he sunk, like Queen Eleanor, atCharing Cross, and has risen again at Paris. He returns again in April;but his health is certainly in a deplorable state."--_Works by Mitford_,vol. iv. p. 79.]

_SITUATION OF AFFAIRS IN ENGLAND--CARDINAL YORK--DEATH OF STANILAUSLECZINSKI, EX-KING OF POLAND._

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

PARIS, _Feb._ 29, 1766.

I have received your letters very regularly, and though I have not sentyou nearly so many, yet I have not been wanting to our correspondence,when I have had anything particular to say, or knew what to say. TheDuke of Richmond has been gone to England this fortnight; he had agreat deal of business, besides engagements here; and if he has failedwriting, at least I believe he received yours. Mr. Conway, I suppose,has received them too, but not to my knowledge; for I have received butone from him this age. He has had something else to do than to think ofPretenders, and pretenders to pretensions. It has been a question (and aquestion scarcely decided yet) not only whether he and his friendsshould remain Ministers, but whether we should not draw the sword on ourcolonies, and provoke them and the manufacturers at home to rebellion.The goodness of Providence, or Fortune by its permission, hasinterposed, and I hope prevented blood; though George Grenville and theDuke of Bedford, who so mercifully checked our victories, in compassionto France, grew heroes the moment there was an opportunity of conqueringour own brethren. It was actually moved by them and their banditti tosend troops to America. The stout Earl of Bute, who is never afraid whennot personally in danger, joined his troops to his ancient friends, latefoes, and now new allies. Yet this second race of Spaniards, so fond ofgold and thirsting after American blood, were routed by 274; their wholeforce amounting but to 134. The Earl, astonished at this defeat, hadrecourse to that kind of policy which Machiavel recommends in hischapter of _back-stairs_. Caesar himself disavowed his Ministers, anddeclared he had not been for the repeal, and that his servants had usedhis name without his permission. A paper was produced to his eyes,which proved this denial an equivocation. The Ministers, instead oftossing their places into the middle of the closet, as I should havedone, had the courage and virtue to stand firm, and save both Europe andAmerica from destruction.

At that instant, who do you think presented himself as Lord Bute'sguardian angel? only one of his bitterest enemies: a milk-white angel[Duke of York], white even to his eyes and eyelashes, very purblind, andwhose tongue runs like a fiddlestick. You have seen this divinity, andhave prayed to it for a Riband. Well, this god of love became the god ofpolitics, and contrived meetings between Bute, Grenville, and Bedford;but, what happens to highwaymen _after_ a robbery, happened to them_before_; they quarrelled about the division of the plunder, before theyhad made the capture--and thus, when the last letters came away, therepeal was likely to pass in both houses, and tyranny once moredespairs.

This is the quintessence of the present situation in England. To howmany _North Britons_, No. 45, will that wretched Scot furnish matter?But let us talk of your _Cardinal Duke of York_[1]: so his folly hasleft his brother in a worse situation than he took him up! _York_ seemsa title fated to sit on silly heads--or don't let us talk of him; he isnot worth it.

[Footnote 1: Cardinal York was the younger brother of Charles Edward. Helived in Italy; and, after the death of his brother, assumed the titleof King of England as Henry IX. After the confiscation of the greaterpart of the Papal revenues by Napoleon, his chief means of livelihoodwas a pension of L4,000 a year allowed him by George IV. out of hisprivate purse.]

I am so sorry for the death of Lady Hillsborough, as I suppose Mr.Skreene is glad of his consort's departure. She was a common creature,bestowed on the public by Lord Sandwich. Lady Hillsborough had sense andmerit, and is a great loss to her family. By letters hither, we hearmiserable accounts of poor Sir James Macdonald; pray let him know that Ihave written to him, and how much I am concerned for his situation.

This Court is plunged into another deep mourning for the death of oldStanislaus,[1] who fell into the fire; it caught his night-gown andburnt him terribly before he got assistance. His subjects are indespair, for he was a model of goodness and humanity; uniting or rathercreating, generosity from economy. The Poles had not the sense tore-elect him, after his virtues were proved, they who had chosen himbefore they knew him. I am told such was the old man's affection for hiscountry, and persuasion that he ought to do all the good he could, thathe would have gone to Poland if they had offered him the crown. He hasleft six hundred thousand livres, and a _rente viagere_ of fortythousand crowns to the Queen, saved from the sale of his Polish estates,from his pension of two millions, and from his own liberality. Hisbuildings, his employment of the poor, his magnificence, and hiseconomy, were constant topics of admiration. Not only the court-tableswere regularly and nobly served, but he treated, and defrayed his oldenemy's grand-daughter, the Princess Christina, on her journey hither tosee her sister the Dauphiness. When mesdames his grand-daughters madehim an unexpected visit, he was so disturbed for fear it should derangehis finances, which he thought were not in advance, that he shut himselfup for an hour with his treasurer, to find resources; was charmed toknow he should not run in debt, and entertained them magnificently. Hisend was calm and gay, like his life, though he suffered terribly, and hesaid so extraordinary a life could not finish in a common way. To a ladywho had set her ruffle on fire, and scorched her arm about the sametime, he said, "Madame, nous brulons du meme feu." The poor Queen hadsent him the very night-gown that occasioned his death: he wrote to her,"C'etoit pour me tenir chaud, mais il m'a tenu trop chaud."

[Footnote 1: Stanislaus Leczinski was the father of the queen of LouisXV. On the conclusion of peace between France and the Empire it wasarranged that the Duke of Lorraine should exchange that duchy forTuscany, and that Lorraine should be allotted to Stanislaus, with areversion to his daughter and to France after his death.]

Yesterday we had the funeral oration on the Dauphin; and are soon tohave one on Stanislaus. It is a noble subject; but if I had leisure, Iwould compose a grand funeral oration on the number of princes deadwithin these six months. What fine pictures, contrasts, and comparisonsthey would furnish! The Duke of Parma and the King of Denmark reigningvirtuously with absolute power! The Emperor at the head of Europe, andencompassed with mimic Roman eagles, tied to the apron-strings, of abigoted and jealous virago. The Dauphin cultivating virtues under theshade of so bright a crown, and shining only at the moment that he wassnatched from the prospect of empire. The old Pretender wasting away inobscurity and misfortune, after surviving the Duke of Cumberland, whohad given the last blow to the hopes of his family; and Stanislausperishing by an accident,--he who had swam over the billows raised byPeter the Great and Charles XII., and reigning, while his successor andsecond of his name was reigning on his throne. It is not taking from thefunereal part to add, that when so many good princes die, the Czarina isstill living!

The public again thinks itself on the eve of a war, by the recall ofStahremberg, the Imperial Minister. It seems at least to destroy theexpectation of a match between the youngest Archduchess and the Dauphin,which it was thought Stahremberg remained here to bring about. I likeyour Great Duke for feeling the loss of his Minister. It is seldom thata young sovereign misses a governor before he tastes the fruits of hisown incapacity.

_March_ 1_st_.

We have got more letters from England, where the Ministers are stilltriumphant. They had a majority of 108 on the day that it was voted tobring in a bill to repeal the Stamp Act. George Grenville's ignoranceand blunders were displayed to his face and to the whole world; he washissed through the Court of Requests, where Mr. Conway was huzza'd. Itwent still farther for Mr. Pitt, whom the mob accompanied home with "IoPitts!" This is new for an opposition to be so unpopular. Adieu!

_SINGULAR RIOT IN MADRID--CHANGES IN THE FRENCH MINISTRY--INSURRECTIONSIN THE PROVINCES._

TO THE HON. H.S. CONWAY.

PARIS, _April_ 8, 1766.

I sent you a few lines by the post yesterday with the first accounts ofthe insurrections at Madrid.[1] I have since seen Stahremberg, theimperial minister,[2] who has had a courier from thence; and if LordRochford has not sent one, you will not be sorry to know moreparticulars. The mob disarmed the Invalids; stopped all coaches, toprevent Squillaci's[3] flight; and meeting the Duke de Medina Celi,forced him and the Duke d'Arcos to carry their demands to the King. Hismost frightened Majesty granted them directly; on which his highness thepeople despatched a monk with their demands in writing, couched in fourarticles: the diminution of the gabel on bread and oil; the revocationof the ordonnance on hats and cloaks; the banishment of Squillaci; andthe abolition of some other tax, I don't know what. The King signedall; yet was still forced to appear in a balcony, and promise to observewhat he had granted. Squillaci was sent with an escort to Carthagena, toembark for Naples, and the first commissioner of the treasury appointedto succeed him; which does not look much like observation of theconditions. Some say Ensenada is recalled, and that Grimaldi is in nogood odour with the people. If the latter and Squillaci are dismissed,we get rid of two enemies.

[Footnote 1: The Spanish Government had taken on itself to regulatedress, and to introduce French fashions into Madrid--an innovation sooffensive to Spanish pride, that it gave rise to a formidableinsurrection, of which the populace took advantage to demand the removalof some obnoxious taxes.]

[Footnote 2: Prince Stahremberg was the imperial ambassador at Madrid.]

[Footnote 3: Signor Squillaci, an Italian, was the Spanish PrimeMinister.]

The tumult ceased on the grant of the demands; but the King retiringthat night to Aranjuez, the insurrection was renewed the next morning,on pretence that this flight was a breach of the capitulation. Thepeople seized the gates of the capital, and permitted nobody to go out.In this state were things when the courier came away. The ordonnanceagainst going in disguise looks as if some suspicions had beenconceived; and yet their confidence was so great as not to have twothousand guards in the town. The pitiful behaviour of the Court makesone think that the Italians were frightened, and that the Spanish partof the ministry were not sorry it took that turn. As I suppose there isno great city in Spain which has not at least a bigger bundle ofgrievances than the capital, one shall not wonder if the pusillanimousbehaviour of the King encourages them to redress themselves too.

There is what is called a change of the ministry here; but it is only acrossing over and figuring in. The Duc de Praslin has wished to retirefor some time; and for this last fortnight there has been much talk ofhis being replaced by the Duc d'Aiguillon, the Duc de Nivernois, &c.;but it is plain, though not believed till _now_, that the Duc deChoiseul is all-powerful. To purchase the stay of his cousin Praslin, onwhom he can depend, and to leave no cranny open, he has ceded the marineand colonies to the Duc de Praslin, and taken the foreign and militarydepartment himself. His cousin is, besides, named _chef du conseil desfinances_; a very honourable, very dignified, and very idle place, andnever filled since the Duc de Bethune had it. Praslin's hopeful cub, theViscount, whom you saw in England last year, goes to Naples; and theMarquis de Durfort to Vienna--a cold, dry, proud man, with the figureand manner of Lord Cornbury.

Great matters are expected to-day from the Parliament, whichre-assembles. A _mousquetaire_, his piece loaded with a _lettre decachet_, went about a fortnight ago to the notary who keeps theparliamentary registers, and demanded them. They were refused--but givenup, on the _lettre de cachet_ being produced. The Parliament intends totry the notary for breach of trust, which I suppose will make hisfortune; though he has not the merit of perjury, like Carteret Webb.

There have been insurrections at Bourdeaux and Toulouse on the militia,and twenty-seven persons were killed at the latter; but both areappeased. These things are so much in vogue, that I wonder the French donot dress _a la revolte_. The Queen is in a very dangerous way. Thiswill be my last letter; but I am not sure I shall set out before themiddle of next week. Yours ever.

_THE BATH GUIDE--SWIFT'S CORRESPONDENCE._

TO GEORGE MONTAGU, ESQ.

STRAWBERRY HILL, _June_ 20, 1766.

I don't know when I shall see you, but therefore must not I write toyou? yet I have as little to say as may be. I could cry through a wholepage over the bad weather. I have but a lock of hay, you know, and Icannot get it dry, unless I bring it to the fire. I would givehalf-a-crown for a pennyworth of sun. It is abominable to be ruined incoals in the middle of June.

What pleasure have you to come! there is a new thing published, thatwill make you burst your cheeks with laughing. It is called the "NewBath Guide."[1] It stole into the world, and for a fortnight no soullooked into it, concluding its name was its true name. No such thing. Itis a set of letters in verse, in all kind of verses, describing the lifeat Bath, and incidentally everything else; but so much wit, so muchhumour, fun, and poetry, so much originality, never met together before.Then the man has a better ear than Dryden or Handel. _Apropos_ toDryden, he has burlesqued his St. Cecilia, that you will never read itagain without laughing. There is a description of a milliner's box inall the terms of landscape, _painted lawns and chequered shades_, aMoravian ode, and a Methodist ditty, that are incomparable, and the bestnames that ever were composed. I can say it by heart, though a quarto,and if I had time would write it you down; for it is not yet reprinted,and not one to be had.

[Footnote 1: By Christopher Anstey. "Have you read the 'New Bath Guide'?It is the only thing in fashion, and is a new and original kind ofhumour. Miss Prue's conversation I doubt you will paste down, as Sir W.St. Quintyn did before he carried it to his daughter; yet I remember youall read 'Crazy Tales' without pasting" (_Gray to Wharton.--Works byMitford_, vol. iv. p. 84).]

There are two new volumes, too, of Swift's Correspondence, that will notamuse you less in another way, though abominable, for there are lettersof twenty persons now alive; fifty of Lady Betty Germain, one that doesher great honour, in which she defends her friend my Lady Suffolk, withall the spirit in the world,[1] against that brute, who hated everybodythat he hoped would get him a mitre, and did not. There is one to hisMiss Vanhomrigh, from which I think it plain he lay with her,notwithstanding his supposed incapacity, yet not doing much honour tothat capacity, for he says he can drink coffee but once a week, and Ithink you will see very clearly what he means by coffee. His own journalsent to Stella during the four last years of the Queen, is a fund ofentertainment. You will see his insolence in full colours, and, at thesame time, how daily vain he was of being noticed by the Ministers heaffected to treat arrogantly. His panic at the Mohocks is comical; butwhat strikes one, is bringing before one's eyes the incidents of acurious period. He goes to the rehearsal of "Cato," and says the _drab_that acted Cato's daughter could not say her part. This was only Mrs.Oldfield. I was saying before George Selwyn, that this journal put me inmind of the present time, there was the same indecision, irresolution,and want of system; but I added, "There is nothing new under the sun.""No," said Selwyn, "nor under the grandson."

[Footnote 1: The letter dated Feb. 8, 1732-3.]

My Lord Chesterfield has done me much honour: he told Mrs. Anne Pittthat he would subscribe to any politics I should lay down. When sherepeated this to me, I said, "Pray tell him I have laid down politics."

I am got into puns, and will tell you an excellent one of the King ofFrance, though it does not spell any better than Selwyn's. You must haveheard of Count Lauragais, and his horse-race, and his quacking his horsetill he killed it.[1] At his return the King asked him what he had beendoing in England? "Sire, j'ai appris a penser"--"Des chevaux?"[2]replied the King. Good night! I am tired and going to bed. Yours ever.

[Footnote 1: In a previous letter Walpole mentioned that the Count andthe English Lord Forbes had had a race, which the Count lost; and that,as his horse died the following night, surgeons were employed to openthe body, and they declared he had been poisoned. "The English," saysWalpole, "suspect that a groom, who, I suppose, had been reading Livy orDemosthenes, poisoned it on patriotic principles to secure victory tohis country. The French, on the contrary, think poison as common as oatsor beans in the stables at Newmarket. In short, there is no impertinencewhich they have not uttered; and it has gone so far that two nights agoit was said that the King had forbidden another race which was appointedfor Monday between the Prince de Nassau and a Mr. Forth, to preventnational animosities."]

[Footnote 2: Louis pretending to think he had said _pansen_.]

_BATH--WESLEY._

TO JOHN CHUTE, ESQ.

BATH, _Oct._ 10, 1766.

I am impatient to hear that your charity to me has not ended in the goutto yourself--all my comfort is, if you have it, that you have good LadyBrown to nurse you.[1]

[Footnote 1: In a letter of the preceding week he mentions having goneto Bath to drink the waters there, but "is disappointed in the city.Their new buildings, that are so admired, look like a collection oflittle hospitals. The rest is detestable, and all crammed together, andsurrounded with perpendicular hills that have no beauty. The river [theAvon] is paltry enough to be the Seine or the Tiber. Oh! how unlike mylovely Thames!"]

My health advances faster than my amusement. However, I have been to oneopera, Mr. Wesley's. They have boys and girls with charming voices, thatsing hymns, in parts, to Scotch ballad tunes; but indeed so long, thatone would think they were already in eternity, and knew how much timethey had before them. The chapel is very neat, with true Gothic windows(yet I am not converted); but I was glad to see that luxury is creepingin upon them before persecution: they have very neat mahogany stands forbranches, and brackets of the same in taste. At the upper end is a broad_hautpas_ of four steps, advancing in the middle: at each end of thebroadest part are two of _my_ eagles, with red cushions for the parsonand clerk. Behind them rise three more steps, in the midst of which is athird eagle for pulpit. Scarlet armed chairs to all three. On eitherhand, a balcony for elect ladies. The rest of the congregation sit onforms. Behind the pit, in a dark niche, is a plain table within rails;so you see the throne is for the apostle. Wesley is a lean elderly man,fresh-coloured, his hair smoothly combed, but with a _soupcon_ of curlat the ends. Wondrous clean, but as evidently an actor as Garrick. Hespoke his sermon, but so fast, and with so little accent, that I am surehe has often uttered it, for it was like a lesson. There were parts andeloquence in it; but towards the end he exalted his voice, and actedvery ugly enthusiasm; decried learning, and told stories, like Latimer,of the fool of his college, who said, "I _thanks_ God for everything."Except a few from curiosity, and _some honourable women_, thecongregation was very mean. There was a Scotch Countess of Buchan, whois carrying a pure rosy vulgar face to heaven, and who asked Miss Rich,if that was _the author of the poets_. I believe she meant me and the"Noble Authors."

The Bedfords came last night. Lord Chatham was with me yesterday twohours; looks and walks well, and is in excellent political spirits.

_MINISTERIAL DIFFICULTIES--RETURN OF LORD CLIVE._

TO SIR HORACE MANN.

STRAWBERRY HILL, _July_ 20, 1767.

You have heard enough, even in the late reign, of our_interministeriums_, not to be surprised that the present lasts solong. I am not writing now to tell you it is at an end; but I thoughtyou might grow impatient.

The Parliament was scarcely separated when a negotiation was begun withthe Bedfords, through Lord Gower; with a view to strengthen the remainsof Administration by that faction,[1] but with no intention of includingGeorge Grenville, who is more hated at Court than he is even in otherplaces. After some treaty, Lord Gower, much against his will, I believe,was forced to bring word, that there was no objection made by hisfriends to the Treasury remaining in the Duke of Grafton; that Grenvillewould support without a place; but Lord Temple (who the deuce thought ofLord Temple?) insisted on equal power, as he had demanded with LordChatham. There was no end of that treaty! Another was then begun withLord Rockingham. He pleaded want of strength in his party, and he mighthave pleaded almost every other want--and asked if he might talk to theBedfords. Yes! he might talk to whom he pleased, but the King insistedon keeping the Chancellor, "and me," said the Duke of Grafton; butadded, that for himself, he was very willing to cede the Treasury to hisLordship. Away goes the Marquis to Woburn; and, to charm the King more,negotiates with both Grenvilles too. These last, who had demandedeverything of the Crown, were all submission to the Marquis, and yetcould not dupe him so fast as he tried to be duped. Oh! all, all wereready to stay out, or turn their friends in, or what he pleased. He tookthis for his own talents in negotiation, came back highly pleased, andnotified his success. The Duke of Grafton wrote to him that the Kingmeant they should come in, _to extend and strengthen hisAdministration_. Too elated with his imaginary power, the Marquisreturned an answer, insolently civil to the Duke, and not commonlydecent for the place it was to be carried to. It said, that his Lordshiphad laid it down for a principle of the treaty, that the presentAdministration was at an end. That supposed, _he_ was ready to _form_ acomprehensive Ministry, but first must talk to the King.

[Footnote 1: The difficulties were caused by Lord Chatham's illness. He,though Prime Minister, only held the office of Lord Privy Seal, the Dukeof Grafton being First Lord of the Treasury; consequently, when LordChatham became incapable of transacting any business whatever, even ofsigning a resignation of his office, the Duke became the Prime Minister,and continued so for three years.]

Instead of such an answer as such a _remonstrance_ deserved, a veryprudent reply was made. The King approved the idea of a comprehensiveAdministration: he desired to unite the hearts of _all_ his subjects: hemeant to exclude men of no denomination attached to his person andgovernment; it was such a Ministry that _he_ intended to _appoint_. When